2960. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 118–122.

[Paris]

Sunday night. [28 September 1851] [1]

Ever beloved Arabel, Did you get my letter from Dieppe? [2] I do hope so. We arrived here on friday, through a stream of sunshine, & really, upon the whole (that is, excepting the sea) had a delightful journey. Carlyle talked like himself, & was so kind & genial besides, that even I did not count upon liking him, as a man, as much as I do. Robert saved him all the trouble everywhere, and he told me that he had not travelled so pleasantly these seven years, .. which was a pleasant thing to hear. Then I must say that Baby was particularly agreeable. Robert & I were in a glow of parental pride the whole way. The child was in the highest spirits, as he usually is when he travels (for he had put down all his regrets at going away from ‘la zia’ and ‘nonno’ [3] and ‘Minny,’ by settling that he would come back ‘domani’ [4] ) and he devoted himself to amusing everybody by the most elaborate representation of the various sights which had struck him in London .. first, Punch, and then the street musicians, & then the street dancers—standing on the elbow of the rail-carriage seat, waving his arms, extending one leg, as if really he were learned in ballets (and wore trowsers) and at the end bowing most gracefully to the spectators, & holding his hat to everybody for ideal pence. Carlyle contributed very goodnaturedly, but an ostrich-beaked gentleman at the opposite corner gave nothing, an omission which Wiedeman reproved magnanimously by giving something out of his own pocket & never asking that person any more. I think I never saw him in greater force. Carlyle said, “The child has as much enterprize as Napoleon Buonaparte already,” and, he might have added, “as little scrupulousness”—for the remotest pretension to shyness had vanished altogether in the excitement of the circumstances.

Well—we are at our old hotel. How fortunate! A family had left our rooms the day before, after a residence here of six weeks. They are comfortable, & look spacious & splendid after Mrs Thompson. [5] But oh, Arabel, how I miss you! How dull it is, to be all day without sight of you, .. without any pulling of the door-bell which makes one start up for joy– How I miss you! how I miss you all who came to see me! Not a bit of love in all Paris, as far as I am concerned! That’s dreadful. It’s a flat falling-off, to be sure. Still, the climate is another thing from your’s– The air, the sunshine, the light everywhere, one cant help being surprised by, as if one had not looked for something different. The houses seem crystalized by the atmosphere, so clear it is. Carlyle compares the general appearance to a theatrical effect at Drury Lane, & that’s just my idea of it: it[’]s very striking after London. I do hope we may be able to stay. We have had some cold wind and this morning (when I go on with my letter) Monday, the air seems colder. Still, my cough is decidedly better already. The night before leaving London, I coughed nearly the whole of it, & Robert kept saying that we did not go before it was necessary. But the evil subsided even at Dieppe .. probably from the change of air, which is always good, you know, for a cough—and then the painful excitement of leaving England was at an end. As to apartments, there seems a difficulty in getting one close to the boulevards, as dear Mr Kenyon wished, within our means—because we want room—we dont want to be cooped up like “dutts”: [6] we must have room for writing in, you see. Robert saw an apartment on saturday which would have suited Henrietta,—at a pound a week—two bedrooms, a salon, & kitchen &c—very pretty indeed, but too small for us of course. We shall have to pay more than we like, I dare say. Paris is crushingly full just now, but probably it wont last– I will tell you how we get on. Meanwhile we are comfortable here, & paying less than at Mrs Thompson’s, so that we can afford to wait.

We went again to the French independents [7] yesterday, & heard a good scriptural sermon, but nothing in any way remarkable. As usual, Robert liked it better than I did. The minister [8] had lost his child, & there was a substitute. The singing is certainly beautiful. Nothing like it, in England.

Baby remembers everything in Paris, & points out the way here & there as if he had lived here all his life. He even stood up suddenly before a shut up shop, moving his head backwards & forwards, because he recollected in that shop, a wax figure of an old woman who shook her head like a mandarin. And consider, he was only three weeks here, and that two months ago. At his age!– Wilson says he is much admired at Paris, .. but she seems in doubt whether it may not be the red frock which attracts the number of gazers– For I let him wear his beautiful frock, Arabel, (till the time comes for George’s pelisse), when he is out of doors, sometimes. I told him yesterday morning that he ought to think very often of God now, and thank God for bringing us safe over the sea– “Less,” he said, signifying that, besides, God had made Lili [9] well & also himself– So ever since, he has been saying his prayers—three or four times, yesterday & today.

The meaning of Carlyle’s coming to Paris was the paying a visit to Lord Ashburton [10] who is at Meurice’s hotel. He (Carlyle) came to us on saturday morning & complained pathetically of the impossibility of sleeping in the room to which he was consigned– [11] He had half a mind he said, to run away from it all & take refuge with us—but they had promised him a back room & he would try it. “Oh—if he was’nt more comfortable he would certainly break with it all & come off to us & our quietness, which suited him much better”!– But as he did’nt appear yesterday, I suppose he was satisfied to some certain degree—only, at best, Meurice’s hotel must be a noisy place, & so overflowing with visitors that the attendance is scarcely adequate to the demand. Carlyle declared that he rang six times for a bath (having not slept all night) & that at last they brought him a quart of water. Lord Ashburton had carried him off to the Theâtre Française on friday night, [12] instantly on his arrival,—which was’nt exactly the best way of providing him with a good night’s sleep, & the complicated excitement & fatigue had undone him, he said.

Nothing can be more Carlyleish, than Carlyle’s way of talking. You should have heard him talk when Robert was doing our business at the custom-house &c– “Ah—it’s a triumph for these fellows to have a poet to do just their will & pleasure. That’s the way in this world. The earth born order about the heaven-born, & think it’s only as it should be.”

Robert called at Tennyson’s old hotel but did not find him. Still, he may be in Paris.

Now, write to me, Arabel—do write everything– Tell me if anything should come to pass in respect to Papa– I think it just possible that he may say something about that letter. Tell me above all about yourself– Be as happy as you can, my own beloved sister—half my heart you keep with you. How you not only helped me to bear, but sweetened (almost) to me, what in London I expected to find intolerable. How much happier I am now than before I went!– Tell dear George to mind & write to me. Robert said yesterday, “I mean to write to George.” Give our very best love to him & dear Henry & all the rest—to Occy, not least: you shall hear more at length when we have subsided.

Had you a pleasant visit to Mr Stratten’s[?]. Tell me everything, Arabel—and say whether you took the new little girl into the Refuge [13] .. the little street-sweeper whom we saw? Tell me about the Refuge, & all things you touch with your finger.

We were very provoked at having to leave behind us the two jars of pickle & preserve,—but we are still more so than we were, because the extreme civility of the custom house would have made another package easy to carry. I could ask Sarianna to bring these jars, if I were not afraid of troubling her above measure, she & her father being such inexperienced travellers. Indeed we might have brought plate, or anything else. The only thing, looked at obliquely, was Wilson’s new green shawl which, in spite of my repeated advices, she wd persist in carrying on her arm. One of the custom house women took it up & said– “This is English, & quite new.” “No,” answered Wilson, “I have worn it.” After a moment’s consideration it was given back to her, but I assure you I trembled during that moment.

Tell dear Minny how deeply I feel her kindness to my child & me. Tell her to love us still & remember us in her prayers. I keep her gifts among my precious things.

I shall write to Henrietta next, for she may really be vexed with me & have the reason on her side. But she heard from you while I was in London, & that was far better, with such a whirling head as I had & indeed have still. So anxious I shall be as the fourteenth approaches!– But they wont get it, Arabel—oh, I fear much that they wont. [14] Robert’s affectionate love will be yours, I know, when he comes home—he is house-hunting–

I am your own grateful devoted

What I regret most to have left undone in London is the visit to Annie Hayes.

I do wish you could get to Hastings. The change & sea-air wd be of infinite use to you. Cd not George ask Papa .. a little, & see our way about apartments. Remember how near we are after all–

The sandwiches &c were most useful– Thanks on thanks. Illus. [15]

Address: Angleterre / Miss Barrett / 50 Wimpole Street / London. [16]

Publication: EBB-AB, I, 406–410.

Manuscript: Berg Collection.

1. This letter is postmarked 29 September 1851, a Monday.

2. The preceding letter. Arabella had not yet received it; see the beginning of the following letter.

3. “Aunt” and “grandfather.”

4. “Tomorrow.”

5. Charlotte Thompson (1788–1885), widow of William Thompson, let rooms with the assistance of her daughter Anna Francis at 26 Devonshire Street, where the Brownings had stayed during their recent visit to London.

6. Pen’s baby talk for “ducks.”

7. This church is listed in Galignani’s New Paris Guide (Paris, 1851) as the “chapelle Taitbout, 44, rue de Provence; service in French and English” (p. 126).

8. Louis Bridel (1813–66), born in Vevey, Switzerland, had been attached to the Chapelle Taitbout since 1840. He relocated to Lausanne in 1855. We are unable to verify that he “lost a child”; however, EBB writes to Arabella in April 1852 that Bridel “had a horrible misfortune three years ago. He lost his only child” (ms at Berg).

9. i.e., Wilson.

10. William Bingham Baring (1799–1864), 2nd Baron Ashburton, had served as M.P. for various constituencies from 1826 until 1848, when he succeeded to his title on the death of his father, Alexander Baring (1773–1848), 1st Baron Ashburton.

11. Carlyle wrote that “noises from the street abounded, nor were wanting from within. Brief, I got no wink of sleep all night” (Last Words, p. 164). He also complained of his difficulty in arranging a bath, but “at length I victoriously got my baquet … huge tub, five feet in diameter” (p. 166). His second room would prove “a much better … but still not quiet one” (p. 167). He also recorded his visit to the Brownings, whom he “found all brisk and well-rested in the Rue Michodière (queer old quiet inn, Aux Armes de la Ville de Paris)” (p. 168).

12. Carlyle noted that Lord Normanby had furnished a box: a “very bad box, ‘stage-box,’ close to the actors” (Last Words, pp. 162–163).

13. EBB is referring to the Industrial Training Refuge for Destitute Girls at 1 Lisson Street, Marylebone, which was founded in 1850, evidently with the help of Arabella (see letter from RB to F.J. Furnivall, 17 February 1882, ms at BL). An appeal for funds published in The Times on 10 February 1855 listed, as honorary secretary, a “Miss Barrett, 50, Wimpole-street” and included the following: “This Institution is open for the Reception of Destitute Girls, from all parts of London, chiefly from Ragged Schools. The object of it is to enable such girls to earn an honest livelihood in any way for which they are found qualified. They are lodged, clothed, and educated in the Refuge, and especially instructed in the Scriptures” (p. 4).

14. A reference to the post that Surtees Cook was seeking (see letter 2928, note 4). The election was held on 14 October 1851. EBB discusses the results in letter 2968.

15. The last two sentences appear on the flap of the envelope beside Pen’s sketch of a paddle steamer and what seems to be his attempt at writing the word “Fumo.”

16. This marks the beginning of EBB’s sending her letters directly to Wimpole Street.

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